Mage: The Awakening PbP - Nemesis

[Tokiwong]

"Starbuck will contact Crash about the Banishers," Morrigan states as she puts away her cellphone. She leans back against the wall as she listens to Thess, mulling over the words of the poem for a bit before speaking up, "Those items do sound like the trappings of a queen, but there's no connection to those eyes except the bit about the robes of mystic night. I wonder who 'They' are. Banishers? Sleepers? Or even the Seers? Or something worse? And who are those items meant to protect? I think we should examine those Eyes more closely."

Gawain does his best not to react to the poem, but it is pretty obvious to the young mages that something is amiss, he takes a seat favoring his earlier injury, "Why Winnie you sly little devil you, you played me for such the fool, all these years and here you were so close to the truth... I tip my hat to you love, I tip my hat to you."

He pauses returning from his verbal chastisement to the present matters at hand. He rubs his forehead with a gentle smile, “I would be a shameful liar if I were to say that the poem means next to nothing to me… I have heard it before… those few lines form the core of a mystery as old as Atlantis. Many good people have given their lives up in the pursuit of this mystery, a fool’s errand some call it. Winnie was adamant that it was not worth pursuing, but I am a fool.”

Cymbeline perks up at the words, ‘Eyes of Salt’. She speaks to Thessaly, “Eyes of Salt… I have heard that before, in one of my dreams.”

Gawain turns to Cymbeline, “You have?”

“Yes,” she replies meekly, “I think there may be more to these dreams then I originally thought. Well at least before I thought I was going crazy but now, after all this, I am not so sure I am not crazy, but this is just too much coincidence to be normal.”

Gawain grins, “Coincidences do not exist when it comes to the Awakened. We create fate on a whim… I suspect this is all due to some far larger design.”

 

[Festy_Dog]

"Sight," Harlequin nods at Morrigan's discovery, "Now how do we determine our next step from here? Would taking a look at these Eyes of Salt help?"

 

[Tokiwong]

"Sight," Harlequin nods at Morrigan's discovery, "Now how do we determine our next step from here? Would taking a look at these Eyes of Salt help?"

Gawain nods, "I think this is best."

 

[Tokiwong]

Memories, or were these ideas yet to be? Time seemed meaningless, or perhaps time had all the meaning in the world. The reality of the now was a distant whisper; it runs like water pooling over the illusion of the self, masking the soul from its true birthright.

But reality is inescapable; even for one sitting upon this throne.

Thessaly

The shop was cool, one of the windows ajar just enough o get the flow of the breeze going. It tingled against her hair. One hand rested on the counter tapping in tune with the soft music emanating from the radio. There is some tea net to her hand, warm tea with a sweet cinnamon like smell.

Her other hand fidgets against a paper in her pocket neatly folded.

Despite the relative ease and state that she is in, her mind prickles. She cannot recall what she was doing two minutes before… before… the now. The sun outside says it is day… but what day? What hour? What was her last meal?

Morrigan

The young Arrow blinks a few times staring at herself in the mirror, her hair pulled back into a pony tail a thin white t-shirt and panties her only sense of dress. She does not recognize where she is, but finds her hand gripped tightly to her pistol which is currently pointed right to her temple by her own hand.

The smell of blood and sweat hangs in the air. The blinds are closed, but it looks to be day out.

Harlequin

Harlequin snaps too, sweat on his brow, and his body in close contact with another. He looks down and finds Cymbeline looking up at him with those soft brown eyes. She smiles, then the smile fades… and Harlequin realizes perhaps at the same time she does, neither knows how they got to this point…
The hotel room blinds are tightly shut but light peeps through…

 

[Shayuri]

(OOC - Hee...gah, somehow I missed my chance to post... Sorry! Now...I guess it's too late )

Thessaly frowns. It was a day like any other, but that seemed wrong somehow. A day? Ordinary? Was that how things had been? Her fingers close around the paper in her pocket and she pulls it out. Reciept, probably, or maybe a handy note to remind her of...of...

Of everything?

A little more worried, she unfolds the paper and scans its contents.

 

[Tokiwong]

Reciept, probably, or maybe a handy note to remind her of...of...

Of everything?

A little more worried, she unfolds the paper and scans its contents.

Thessaly takes out the neatly folded piece of paper. It unwraps easily and has her handwriting on it:

[sblock]The Eyes. Remember the Eyes.[/sblock]

A customer walks through the door just as she finishes reading the note.

 

[Aenion]

Morrigan

The young Arrow blinks a few times staring at herself in the mirror, her hair pulled back into a pony tail a thin white t-shirt and panties her only sense of dress. She does not recognize where she is, but finds her hand gripped tightly to her pistol which is currently pointed right to her temple by her own hand.

The smell of blood and sweat hangs in the air. The blinds are closed, but it looks to be day out.

Morrigan blinked a few more times as she stared at the pistol in her hand. This wasn't the first time she'd wanted to bite the bullet, to be reunited with her sister and her parents. But this wasn't like those times ... or was it? Something didn't feel right aside from the part where the muzzle of her own gun touched her temple that is. She slowly lowered the gun and turned around to take in the room, the gun dangling from her arm, Where am I? How did I get here? What happened here?

 

[Festy_Dog]

Harlequin smiled back at first, losing himself in the moment. Right then a pair of dark eyes told him all was well, and he had no desire to challenge them. When Cymbeline's smile began to fade the illusion was shattered. Things clicked in his head and he became keenly aware of their situation.

"Hmm," the noise carried more nervousness than Harlequin intended, and he glanced around to get his bearings.

He carefully got up and checked his watch. There was time to be accounted for.

"I hate to rain on our private little parade, but I have the impression neither of us know how we got here," Harlequin checked his wallet next.

He was unconcerned about lacking money. His primary concern was preventing his real name getting into circulation. Another thought struck him and he checked his injuries.

"I didn't get blood on you did I?" he asked.

 

[Tokiwong]

Morrigan blinked a few more times as she stared at the pistol in her hand. This wasn't the first time she'd wanted to bite the bullet, to be reunited with her sister and her parents. But this wasn't like those times ... or was it? Something didn't feel right aside from the part where the muzzle of her own gun touched her temple that is. She slowly lowered the gun and turned around to take in the room, the gun dangling from her arm, Where am I? How did I get here? What happened here?

The room was small, well cozy it wasn’t a hotel room and the furnishings were definitely older. It was clean, and the picture frame of Winnie and a much younger Thessaly gives Morrigan a moment to get her bearings. She must be in the bedrooms above the shop, there was a letter on the night stand; and her stuff was sloppily piled on a chair and the bed was unmade.

Harlequin

Cymbeline replies slowly, “No, no blood… that I can see,” she slowly disentangles herself from the Guardian and sits up in the bed looking around. She rubs her forehead, “I don’t even know how I got here…”

Harlequin’s watch reads the 30th of August, making it a Wednesday. That means two days have passed since he arrived in town, two days he cannot account for…

“I hope you don’t think I am like…” she looks away obviously embarrassed.

Nothing was amiss about the wallet.

 

[Aenion]

The room was small, well cozy it wasn’t a hotel room and the furnishings were definitely older. It was clean, and the picture frame of Winnie and a much younger Thessaly gives Morrigan a moment to get her bearings. She must be in the bedrooms above the shop, there was a letter on the night stand; and her stuff was sloppily piled on a chair and the bed was unmade.

At least this made sense to Morrigan, she had moved into Thess' place and she hadn't had much time to settle in yet. She glanced again at the gun in her hand and then, after switching the safety on, tossed it onto the bed. But how did she get here? Why had she had her gun to her head? Where did that unpleasantly familiar scent of blood come from? The last thing she remembered they had been down in the basement...

Not wanting to disturb anything else that might hint at how she got in the badroom, she carefully made her way to the night stand and picked up the letter.